


Characters Not in Love (Yet). Fix?

by impulserun



Series: Editor AU [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dialogue Heavy, M/M, Take Your Fandom to Work Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:14:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24118588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impulserun/pseuds/impulserun
Summary: The AU in which Zuko is a suffering book editor at an academic publisher and Sokka is the guy he outsources his indexing to.
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Series: Editor AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1920814
Comments: 68
Kudos: 462





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Sokka has never met Zuko Higuchi in his life. Not in person, anyway. Most of their correspondence takes place over email, each one more professionally worded and polite than the last. (See, Katara? He can be professional when he wants to be, so _there_.) Usually they only talk when Zuko has a new project for him, a new book with authors too busy or lazy to sort out the index themselves. That’s where Sokka comes in.

It’s not a bad side hustle, indexing. He gets a new book to read for free—he gets _paid_ to read it, actually—and it beats slogging it out in customer service for a minimum wage any day. Sure, some of the books that Zuko assigns to him are the absolute worst, like the one by the guy who somehow wrote a book about the history of Avatar Kyoshi _that actually made him fall asleep_ , but for the most part it’s not a bad way to make a living. He already spends all his free time doing research for his thesis anyway. At least he can get some money out of it.

On Monday morning, Sokka rolls out of bed to a new email in his inbox. It’s from Zuko, and it’s marked as ‘High Importance’, which is enough to pique his interest.

*

From: z.higuchi@jasminedragon.com

Subject: URGENT: Book project for indexing

To: sokka84@cabbagemail.net

Dear Sokka,

I hope this email finds you well. I just wanted to check your availability for a new book project for indexing over the next couple of days. It’s about political upheaval in Ba Sing Se, a topic which should be of interest to you if my memory serves me correctly. The extent is about 500 pages.

The project is a little time sensitive, so I would appreciate it if you could get back to me as soon as possible. I hope to hear from you soon.

Yours sincerely,

Zuko Higuchi (Mr)

Editor

Jasmine Dragon Publishing

*

Grimacing at the phrase ‘time sensitive’, he glances up to check when the email had been sent, and opens a new message window to start drafting his reply.

*

To: z.higuchi@jasminedragon.com

Subject: URGENT: Book project for indexing

Dear Zuko,

Sure, I’d be happy to take on this book for indexing. I apologise for the late reply—your email came in just after I went to bed last night.

You mentioned that this project is time sensitive. Is there a timeline that needs to be followed? 

Regards,

Sokka

*

From: z.higuchi@jasminedragon.com

Subject: RE: URGENT: Book project for indexing

To: sokka84@cabbagemail.net

Dear Sokka,

Thank you for your reply. Are you free for a quick conference call later today, perhaps at around 1pm this afternoon? I can explain what’s needed for this project and address any questions or concerns you might have. I’ll send you the second proofs of the book via CabbageTransfer in the meantime. Thank you.

Yours sincerely,

Zuko Higuchi (Mr)

Editor

Jasmine Dragon Publishing

*

Following this email is a link to an uploaded folder on CabbageTransfer; the proofs to a book that is apparently titled _No War in Ba Sing Se: Tumult and Unrest in the Earth Kingdom’s Capital_. Sokka sends off the reply saying _sure, 1pm sounds great_ and then wanders into the kitchen to prepare breakfast and coffee while the files download.

He decides midway through the second chapter and his fourth slice of toast that it’s not a bad read. Zuko has certainly sent him worse. At least the language is clean and he doesn’t feel like he’s about to die every time he turns the page, which is more than what his university textbooks have to say for themselves. It might take him a week to compile the index for it, if the authors are kind enough to give him the keywords. Two weeks if he has to identify his own.

The email with the link to the conference calling software pops up at around noon. It also serves as a reminder for him to get washed up and presentable. This is the first time he’s going to be talking to Zuko face to face, and he doesn’t want to leave too bad an impression.

Sokka settles back in front of his laptop at ten minutes to one. Enters the room at 12.55pm, and realises that he hadn’t needed to change his clothes after all—the room is set to audio-only.

He waits, patiently.

At a few minutes past one, Zuko finally enters the room.

“Um, hello?” He says, and Sokka feels his eyebrows slowly climb up his forehead. The voice is raspy and uncertain, and a lot younger-sounding than he had been expecting, what with how stuffy Zuko’s emails always are. “This is Zuko here. Can you hear me?”

“Yup, you’re coming in loud and clear,” he answers, cringing belatedly. “This is Sokka speaking.”

“Great, Sokka, hi,” says Zuko. “Thanks for taking the time to speak with me. And, uh, sorry about this being audio-only. My office computer doesn’t have a webcam.”

Sokka glances down at his shirt (the least-rumpled shirt he could find, thank you very much, all his Functioning Adult shirts are due to be washed) and decides that it’s probably for the best.

Without missing a beat, Zuko launches into a lengthy tirade about _No War in Ba Sing Se_. Sokka tunes out the parts that aren’t directly related to the index—blah blah blah, the authors want it to be launched on the anniversary of the Liberation of Ba Sing Se, blah blah blah, need at least one month for the book to be printed and shipped to bookstores, blah blah blah _wait a minute hold up what_?

“Two days? You want me to index this in _two days_?”

“I know,” Zuko says miserably. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re asking me to index a 500-page book—”

“If it makes you feel better, I’m only giving you half the keywords—”

“In _two days_?”

“I’m going to take care of the other half—”

“—what?”

“It’s not humanely possible to create an index for 200 keywords in two days by yourself. If it were, I’d do it myself and save you the trouble,” Zuko explains, still miserable. “But 100 words apiece isn’t bad.”

Oh. Okay.

In his not-so-long career as a part-time indexer, Sokka has worked with all sorts of editors. The team at Caldera University Press, for example, is kind of shitty and he never wants to work for them again. The University of Northern Waters Press has a decent team, but they’re also really antiquated and old-fashioned (like, they do all of their copyediting by _hand_ on the _hardcopy_ copies of the manuscript, and again on the _hardcopy proofs_ , that is _not_ sane human behaviour). Zuko is kind of the first editor he has met who is this… _considerate_.

“Alright,” Sokka sighs. “Fine. I’ll do it. When did you say the final proof will be ready again?”

“If the authors return their corrections on time, Friday evening.”

“And you need the index by Sunday, so that the typesetter can lay it out and you can send the final files to the printers on Monday.” There goes his weekend, Sokka thinks mournfully. He waves at it as it passes him by.

“Yes,” Zuko says, clearly relieved.

“And if the authors _don’t_ get back to you on time?”

“Then they get to choose if they want their book to be late or to not have an index.”

“I have to be honest with you, I hope they choose the first option. I really, really want to get paid.”

Zuko snorts. The sound is oddly charming. Sokka is at once both enchanted and horrified that he finds his editor-client-person charming.

“I’ll do it,” Sokka repeats, “but I’m going to want two times my usual fee.”

“Done.”

“And, correct me if I’m getting this wrong, am I right in assuming that you’re also going to be indexing this book this weekend?”

“… Yes?”

“Then I’d like your company, if you’re willing to give me the privilege of sharing it. We’re both going to be suffering anyway. We might as well suffer with each other.”

It’s a weird request to make, which might explain why Zuko hesitates before replying, in that unsure, too-young voice of his, “Uh, sure, I guess.”

It’s not a date, Sokka tells himself, ignoring the way his heart is kind of fluttering pathetically in his chest, just two guys in an online meeting suffering through Book Hell together, but he’s been lonely and kind of miserable all by himself ever since Toph went back to Gaoling to visit her parents and Suki set off to Caldera City all the way over in the Fire Nation for an internship. It’s not a date, but it’s _company_. 


	2. Chapter 2

From: z.higuchi@jasminedragon.com

Subject: Re: URGENT: Book project for indexing

To: sokka84@cabbagemail.net

Attached:  Ba Sing Se_Keywords_For Sokka.doc 

Hi Sokka,

We just got the corrections back from the authors and the typesetter is working on them now. I’ll let you know when the final proofs are ready. In the meantime, the keywords provided by the authors are in the attached Word file. 

Yours sincerely,

Zuko Higuchi (Mr)

Editor

Jasmine Dragon Publishing

*

To: z.higuchi@jasminedragon.com

Subject: Re: URGENT: Book project for indexing

Zuko, you cruel fickle-hearted man,

Ba Sing Se is a keyword. Why is Ba Sing Se a keyword? It’s part of the title! It’s in the running heads! It’s going to come up on every page when I use the search function! 

You’re lucky I like you. 

Regards,

Sokka

*

From: z.higuchi@jasminedragon.com

Subject: RE: URGENT: Book project for indexing

To: sokka84@cabbagemail.net

I know. Sorry.

Yours sincerely,

Zuko Higuchi (Mr)

Editor

Jasmine Dragon Publishing

*

Zuko sends him the final proofs (why are they so much longer than the second proofs?) along with an invitation to another virtual meeting room and a note that he’ll be online after 7.30pm. True to his word, he pops in at 7.38pm.

“Sorry I’m late,” Zuko says, as if Sokka hasn’t been kept waiting in e-meetings for literal hours before. Eight minutes is _nothing_. “Have you had dinner?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it. What about you?”

“I have take-out right here. I’ll eat while I work.”

Sokka mournfully thinks of his dinner, which had consisted of rice and heated leftovers. Haha, what? Jealous? What are you talking about? Of course he’s not jealous.

“What did you get?” he asks, because he’s a masochist.

“Oh, uh, it’s just… fried noodles? Seafood noodles, fried Fire-style. I mean—not authentic Fire-style, but as close as you can get in Ba Sing Se.”

“Cool, cool. Good to know that you’re not starving yourself.” Sokka has had Fire cuisine only once, on exchange in Ba Sing Se, and he wonders if Zuko bought his dinner from the same food stall. He can still remember the mouth-watering, smoky scent rising from his roast duck noodles, the way the crisp skin had crackled beneath his teeth as he bit into the juicy meat, the way the delicious golden fatty goodness had dripped down his chin… and the copious glasses of water he had gulped down afterwards to put out the fire on his taste buds. “Let’s get down to business, shall we?”

*

Inevitably, because silence is awkward and uncomfortable, they end up talking. Most of it is small talk, or questions about odd keywords (“Zuko, I haven’t read this book in detail—why is _Bosco the Bear_ a keyword?” “Uh, I think it’s because when assassins came for the 52nd Earth King—after he started instituting reforms post-Hundred Year War, he wasn’t exactly popular with the nobles, especially the war profiteers—they tried to attack him in the middle of the night, and Bosco ate them.” “… _Wow_.”), or comments on the contents of the book.

At some point though, Zuko ends up venting.

“Don’t tell anyone else, but you know those second proofs I sent you? Those were supposed to be the _final_ proofs. Once I got the keywords from the authors, I was going to ask you to take the week to index the book.” The sentence is punctuated by the loud _clack-clack-clack_ of Zuko typing furiously away; Sokka says a silent prayer for his poor abused keyboard. “But then—it’s a review volume, you know that right? Of course you do, what am I talking about—the chief editor says she needs to send the proofs to all of the authors to get their approval. Isn’t that what you do, I don’t know, _before you submit the manuscript to us_? Or at any of the proofing stages before this?”

“She actually did that?”

“Yeah, she said she had to, or she’d have an ‘uprising’ on her hands. I hope the book flops and they go bankrupt.” Guilty silence, then, “Please don’t tell anyone I said that.”

“I won’t,” Sokka assures him, even if the urge to gossip is immense and immediate. “So, that’s what opened the floodgates, huh?”

“Yes! _Every single one of them came back with corrections_! This one guy added a full paragraph to his chapter, and then the entire book had to be reflowed! Why would you do that? It took two whole days to incorporate everything, and now I have to check the proofs _again,_ not to mention the fact that they were _late_ —”

He lets the sound of Zuko’s aggrieved ranting wash over him as he pores over the page for the next instance of ‘Avatar Kyoshi’. It sounds like the poor guy needs it.

*

“Hey,” Sokka says suddenly, somewhere in the middle of indexing that stupid Ba Sing Se keyword, “I just thought of a haiku.”

Zuko, at least, sounds amused. “Sure, let’s hear it.”

Clearing his throat, he recites, “Indexing this book. Keyword is on every page. What a piece of shit.”

On the other end of the line, Zuko snorts, and it’s a testament to how absolutely exhausted they both are that the snickering goes on for as long as it does.

“Isn’t there some sort of rule about haiku lines not being complete sentences?” he asks, when he finally manages to catch his breath.

“I don’t know. What do I look like, a member of the Five-Seven-Five Society?” (He had been, during his brief undergrad exchange term at Ba Sing Se University, but then Madame Macmu-Ling had kicked him out.) “Besides, it’s not about the poetic form, it’s about expressing my frustration through a creative medium.”

“I’m fairly certain it’s the limitations of the form forcing you to think out of the box that makes it a creative medium, but sure, I guess.”

“Whoa there, what are you, a Literature major?”

Zuko is… suspiciously silent.

“Tui and La,” Sokka breathes, “you _are_.” 

“I work in book publishing,” Zuko grumbles. “What did you think I was?”

“Hey, JDP is a publisher of _academic_ books. I thought you specialised in history or something.”

“… Sure, if historical fiction counts.”

“Oh my gods. Was that a joke? You have a sense of humour? Since when did you have a sense of humour? It’s like I don’t even know you.”

“Shut up, Sokka.” Then, quieter, “You _don’t_ know me.”

Which, sadly, is true, and needs to be rectified post-haste.

“What’s your favourite colour?” he blurts out.

“Wha—huh?”

“I don’t know you, but I want to. So what’s your favourite colour?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“You can learn a lot about a guy from his favourite colour,” Sokka argues, absentmindedly clicking through the many ‘Ba Sing Ses’ in the proof. Running head, running head, another running head…. “Why else would it be a question in so many personality quizzes?”

“Okay, uh… I like… the colour of the sky at sunrise.”

“Oh. Wow. I was just going to say blue.”

*

“—and that’s when this runaway food cart comes barrelling down the street, and I’m standing right in its path.”

Zuko sucks in a sharp breath. “Oh no.”

“And I usually have sharp reflexes, you know? I went ice dodging back home—uh, Water Tribe rite of passage, coming of age thing—and got the Mark of the Wise for quick thinking under pressure, but, oh _man_ , when I saw that dumb green-and-yellow cart coming at me, I froze. And all that cliché shit about your life flashing before your eyes just before you die? _Not a cliché_.”

“Oh _no_. What happened then?”

“ _Luckily_ , my sister was there to push me out of the way. _Un_ luckily, she pushed me off the edge of the boardwalk.”

“ _Shit_.”

“And that’s how I ended up taking an impromptu dive into Yue Bay on the first day of my sister’s summer vacation.”

*

“Favourite snack food.”

“Fire flakes. I haven’t had good fire flakes in forever.”

“They don’t sell fire flakes in Ba Sing Se?”

“Not the good kind,” Zuko huffs. “The kind I grew up eating is toasted with sesame oil and has sesame seeds sprinkled on top. Here in Ba Sing Se, you only find fire flakes in novelty shops, and they’re all bland. Because the only flavour in the Fire Nation is spicy, apparently.”

“Well now you’ve got me curious. My friend’s on internship in Caldera right now. I’m going to know straight away if you’re lying to me.”

“Why… would I lie… about fire flakes…?”

“I don’t know. Why would you?”

“ _Ugh_ ,” says Zuko, heartfelt. “Just tell them to try the sesame-flavoured fire flakes. And any of the seafood ones, if they aren’t allergic to shrimp or lobster-crabs.”

Sokka has to resist the urge to snicker again. “So, sesame-flavoured fire flakes?”

“Yep. What about you?”

“Me? Oh, uh… I guess blubbered seal jerky? You can only get it at the Water Tribe settlements near the Poles, and I always get into trouble trying to bring it through customs, so I guess we’re in the same boat. Haven’t had any in a while.”

“Oh. That’s… rough. I’m sorry.”

“’Salright. I still get to eat it when I go home for the holidays. Besides, the food here’s not half-bad. Some of the Water Tribe restaurants are actually run by Water Tribespeople. And the fusion food’s pretty cool.”

“I wish I could say the same about food in Ba Sing Se,” Zuko sighs.

“So… you’re from the Fire Nation, huh? Do you get homesick living in Ba Sing Se?”

“I did in the beginning, but not anymore. Isn’t it my turn to ask the question?”

“Oh, right. Sorry.”

*

“So, you’re a Lit major, and you’re from the Fire Nation… thoughts on Pu-on Tim?”

“That was a joke, right? You didn’t mean that seriously. Sokka, please tell me that was a joke.”

“Why would I be joking?” he asks.

Zuko takes a deep breath, the sound of it staticky through Sokka’s headphones. “First of all, Pu-on Tim was a _talentless hack_.”

Oh no. What has he unleashed?

*

“—and _furthermore_ , the only reason why his works gained the traction they did is because he was willing to suck up to the Fire Lord after his part of the Earth Kingdom got annexed by the Fire Nation during the Hundred-Year War. Sure, people say he was writing his work with the common people in mind, but so did Sha Bei, and _he_ didn’t sell out his country—”

*

“And he’s not even Fire Nation! We have so many poets and playwrights that put their necks on the line to call out the monarchy, and do _their_ names get remembered by history? No! And don’t get me started on the Ember Island Players putting on his plays _every_ year, without fail, same blocking, same sets, _same costumes_ —”

“Okay, okay! Sheesh, Zuko, I’m sorry for asking.”

*

Somewhere around four in the morning, Sokka groans, checks his list of keywords, and comes to the startling realisation that he’s done. He blinks blearily down at the last word on his page, scrolls down to the very end of the Word document as if doing so will magically reveal that he missed a keyword, and drops his head down onto the table with a loud _thunk_.

“I’m done,” he says to his table. “Holy shit, I’m done.”

“Congratulations,” Zuko says, stifling a yawn. “Send me your file. I’ll compile it for the typesetter tomorrow. Or, well, later today.”

“Wait, _you’re_ not done yet?”

“I took extra when I saw they made Ba Sing Se a keyword. I have about ten more to go, but five of them are names, so it’s okay. You should go ahead and get some sleep.”

“Oh,” Sokka says dumbly, and there goes his stupid heart again, fluttering away at the first sign of Zuko being a decent human being.

It may be the sleep deprivation—Sokka prides himself on his time management skills and hasn’t had to pull an all-nighter since his undergrad years—or it may be the bone-deep exhaustion, but he experienced something _real_ tonight. Tenuous, but real. He doesn’t want to lose that.

“Is the sun rising where you are?” he asks, looking out his window.

“Maybe? I can’t bring myself to get up and look out the window right now.”

“Well, it is here. And you were right. Sunrise really is a beautiful colour.”

As the first rays of dawn’s first light creep over the horizon, Sokka makes his decision.

“I don’t know about you, but… I kind of had fun doing this, despite everything. And… I think I felt something. And I think you felt it too.”

Zuko’s voice is quiet (it might be from trepidation, but then again it might just be his shitty Internet connection), but no less sincere when he eventually replies, “Yeah. Me too.”

Sokka eyes his computer screen, absentmindedly tapping his finger against his mouse. “Do you want to do something about it?”

“Do… what?”

“You know. Do an, uh, activity together. A date-like activity. Or something.”

“… You don’t even know how old I am, or what I look like.”

“How old can you be? You sound like you’re sixteen.” He pauses to think about it, then continues, “I mean, I have to draw the line if you’re in your forties or older. Or if you’re married. I’m not about that homewrecker life.”

“If you want,” Zuko offers, tentative and slow, “I could… turn my webcam on?”

“I thought you said you didn’t have a webcam,” he accuses.

“That was in the office. I’m at home now. If I have to pull an all-nighter, at least I’m comfortable while I do it. And I refuse to spend my weekend in the office building. Do you know when the last time we deep-cleaned the carpets was?”

All of which are legitimate points, Sokka concedes.

“Tell you what, we’ll both turn on our webcams on three,” he suggests. “And if you leave me hanging, I’m going to be very disappointed in you.”

Zuko laughs, a low, raspy chuckle, and oh Tui damn it Sokka’s heart is fluttering again.

The screen flickers, and suddenly Zuko is there, waving shyly. He’s a tired-looking, bedraggled young man, dark hair sticking up at odd places where he must have run his hands through it in absent-mindedness or frustration. His skin is fair-bordering-on-pale, the bags beneath his eyes startlingly dark in comparison. His eyes are Fire-yellow, slanted and kind, and uncertain.

(That might have something to do with the huge burn scar on his face, actually.)

“Hi,” Zuko offers.

“… Hi,” Sokka parrots back.

“This is me, I guess,” Zuko continues, his shoulders slumping. “I know I’m probably—not what you were expecting—”

“You’re definitely _younger_ than I was expecting,” says Sokka, who had been expecting someone in his late thirties going off Zuko’s emails alone. He wisely clamps his mouth shut before he can blurt out something stupid about sugar daddies. “Spirits, Zuko. You’re, what, my age?”

“I could say the same about you,” Zuko… teases? Is that actually a teasing smile on his face? Is he maybe flirting back? “All this time I’ve been thinking you were some hypercompetent indexing whiz in his thirties. Turns out you’re a hypercompetent indexing whiz in your twenties who’s also a dweeb.”

“Hey,” says Sokka, starting to grin, “I resemble that remark. And I think you left out an adjective—cute, maybe. Or hot. Maybe even sexy?” He wiggles his eyebrows.

Zuko’s eyes widen, and a blush quickly creeps up his neck—oh yeah, he’s definitely interested, Sokka is sure of that _now_. “Uh,” he splutters, “so—do you—still, I mean, do you still want to give this a shot?”

“Are you kidding?” Sokka asks. When Zuko’s face starts to fall, he hurriedly adds, “Of course I do! Of course I want to! I mean, I’m in Republic City and you’re all the way in Ba Sing Se, but—we can find a way to make it work, right?”

“Right,” Zuko echoes, and they beam stupidly at each other.

“I’m not sure if I’m allowed to hire you for indexing anymore,” Zuko says suddenly. “I’m pretty sure that’s a form of nepotism.”

“Eh, whatever,” Sokka says, grinning. “Customer service it is.”

**Author's Note:**

> I used [La_Temperanza's work skin tutorial](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7953412) for the email windows.
> 
> EDIT (3 June 2020):  
> Disclaimer: This fic presents a highly romanticised view of indexing as a career path. The author had to make it interesting so that the fic wouldn't be a total drag and is highly concerned that some of y'all are contemplating making a living out of this. Don't use Sokka as your career counsellor guys. D:


End file.
